


A Monster's Slumber

by welzes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24347995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welzes/pseuds/welzes
Summary: Under ordinary circumstances, it shouldn't have been possible. With the Light in his grasp, he should've been able to banish the shadow's touch. But this was no ordinary circumstance, for he'd been in thrall to the Scourge for some time.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 6





	A Monster's Slumber

"The same as always," it spat. "You'd turn your back on even me."

It was dark—so very much like the darkness of despair that had swallowed him in his foolish prime. His form, sustained through the millennia by the power of the Draconian, cast its Light on the shadow leaned over him as he found himself immobilized by strong hands clenched around his wrists.

Under ordinary circumstances, it shouldn't have been possible. With the Light in his grasp, he should've been able to banish the shadow's touch. But this was no ordinary circumstance, for he'd been in thrall to the Scourge for some time.

How many years had passed in his madness? His willpower was no greater than the next mortal. The Scourge was beyond his ability to tame. He maintained a feral existence now, sometimes cut short in-between by the emergence of his repressed ego.

His shadow was naught more than an amalgamation of all the emotions he'd suppressed over the years. Anger, confusion, sorrow, and so much more writhed in the being above him. He had been the limiter; since his control had slipped from his grasp, his shadow would run rampant like an overwrought child and choke the sanity out of him. He would lose himself to madness once more, only to be brought back to this moment another time to repeat the cycle of his insanity.

What his shadow sought was not his torture, however.

"Nobody wants us," it said as it tightened its grip on his wrists. "Once they see us for whom we are, they leave. Even our brother could not stand the sight of us."

It wasn't wrong. Even before that fateful day by the Crystal, his brother had turned away from him—driven away by his twisted mien and corrupted tone in the face of criticism against his terrible actions. His brother had fled and refused to correspond thereafter, no matter how much he had pursued him.

If he had abhorred his own actions as much as he had, they must have been truly incomprehensible to his brother. No amount of explanation could have changed that outcome.

"We've only each other. Knowing that, you would still reject us? You'd abandon us as all the others did." The grip around his wrists tightened again, squeezing phantom nerves and eliciting a sharp intake of breath. "You truly are a monster."

The pressure around his wrists released and wrapped around his neck on the next breath, sealing it.

The first time this had happened, he'd bucked and clawed ineffectually at the hands strangling him. He'd been frantic, fearing the possibility of total erasure when the prophecy still entailed his spirit. Now he lay at the mercy of his bleeding heart, reflecting with what focus he could muster amid his waning consciousness.

How many times had he lost himself to this insanity, he wondered as he looked into the eyes of his shadow.

An inky black substance oozed down from wide blue eyes, betraying its cognizance of the ugly truth. Its fury was born from the reality that it had to be abandoned for both of their survival.

In truth, it had been cruel to refer to his shadow as a child. This was no child, but the boy who had wanted to cry out against the unfairness of the world; the man who had craved recognition and love during a phase of powerlessness; and the brother who had feared abandonment, only to be left behind. It was the humanity he'd buried the day he'd chosen the world over all else.

Driven to its breaking point by the Scourge pulsing through his core, the shadow of his humanity wished nothing more than to smother the monster of Light he'd cultivated. It thrived in the darkness and despised the Light that continued to reject it time and again. This was vengeance for the crimes he'd committed against himself.

He reached up against the mad tradition set between them to caress the face of his shadow. In order for the Light to be restored to the world, the darkness must be held at bay. Until then, there would be no rejoining between his humanity and its monstrous shell.

But once that moment came to pass, he would accept himself once more. Someday the nightmare would end. This, he promised as his hand fell from his shadow's face.

When at last the Light of the Chosen King penetrated the darkness of despair, he grasped that ray of hope in the distance and didn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the concepts of the persona and the shadow. Fascinatingly, this was cathartic to write.
> 
> Somnus, who was born righteous with a desire to prove himself by using his own strength, had to abandon his cherished values to preserve the future. The emotional strain of this self-betrayal gave rise to his vitriolic temper and increased thirst for validation. His betrayal of Ardyn is not Somnus at his core, but his worst. Once understanding dawned with his crowning, he suppressed his naive self and pushed onward as a king must.
> 
> At first, he refers to his shadow with an inhuman designation (it). Toward the end, he acknowledges that the inhuman one is his surface personality: himself.


End file.
